


Twin Scents

by ElnaK



Series: Books of Sacrifices [9]
Category: Frequency (2000), Frequency (TV 2016), Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Bear is so proud of himself, Crossover, Face Punching, Family Reunions, Gen, Iris has no idea what's going on ( but she wants to figure it out ), John Reese is John Sullivan, One actor Several characters, What if AU from a headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 15:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElnaK/pseuds/ElnaK
Summary: Iris wanted to speak to John Riley, when Riley's dog suddenly dash off... leading them to someone the therapist would never have expected to meet.





	Twin Scents

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow it ended up being all in Iris' POV...
> 
> No actual scientific reason to Bear's behavior, but who cares?

Iris Campbell was walking down the street – thinking, as often lately, about her most problematic patient – when her eyes fell onto John Riley, aka Most Problematic Patient. He was walking ahead of her, back turned, and there were more than a few people between them, but he had a good few inches over most of the crewd, and Iris would recognise that silver hair anywhere.

No, she hadn't been staring at it during their sessions.

Iris hesitated a moment – following Riley right now wouldn't be very professional – but she did need to remind him of their next appointment, since the detective hadn't come for the last... as well as for the two sessions before that. Riley didn't seem very concerned with his IA problem – more irritated than anything else, truly – but she could tell he cared enough to make efforts to keep his job.

Only, not enough efforts. He had slipped his IA-shaped shadow no less than three times since the beginning of the week, from what she had been told – and it was only Tuesday. He also seemed to always have something coming up whenever they were supposed to have a session, and Iris was worried.

Truth be told, she was a bit lost when it came to John Riley. Deciphering him wasn't so much of an issue – more difficult than with other cops, sure, but not impossible; Iris was good at her job, after all. The problem laid more with making sense of what she got out of him... when she actually got something out of him, which wasn't that often. The man was probably more tight-lipped than a mafioso under the omerta.

She was missing too many elements to really understand John Riley.

But here he was, walking only a few meters ahead, oblivious to her presence... probably.

Iris allowed herself one minute of observation, before reaching out and telling him – again – about their missed appointments.

Riley was with a woman, Iris realized, the both of them walking a dog without a word, but not without a discreet rivalry when it came to the dog. It was almost humorous how Riley's shoulders tensed every time the woman tried to get the leash from him – when it failed, the stranger shrugged and bent down, scratching the dog behind one ear, with a smirk for Riley. As if to say, see, you can't keep the dog to yourself, John.

If the two hadn't been so different physically, Iris might have thought them siblings. With the wide difference in heights, skin colors, and overall features, she settled onto old friends of circumstances.

The minute was almost up when the two turned into Central Park. Iris started to walk just a bit faster, to be able to call Riley out without raising her voice too much. She was only four feet behind the two...

...When the dog stilled, muzzle in the wind, ears up.

Riley and the woman shared a look, scouted out the park in search of a reason for the dog's behavior. Then the detective looked back at the dog, not having noticed any immediate threat.

"Bear?"

The dog shivered oddly, turned to look at his owner with a look of canine perplexity, sniffed the air, looked even more started, turned back towards where he had first been looking...

And bolted.

Riley, surprised by the sudden motion, didn't even try to keep a hold on the leash – though, from the little Iris could see of his face, he seemed more convinced that letting the dog go was the best way, and that, had he wished so, the leash would have remained in his hand.

The detective and the stranger looked at each other one more time, then followed the dog. It wasn't exactly difficult to, even when “Bear” went through patches of crowd, since the frantic run was startling more than one person.

Following the expletives and other expressions of surprise lead the two, and by association, Iris, deeper into Central Park. Iris wasn't sure why exactly she was continuing to follow Riley, but obviously curiosity was a huge part of it.

The therapist almost lost the two – very, very fast – at some point, but luckily for her, they were almost there. She looked around for a moment, then noticed the streak of silver behind a wall of other people. There was also a lot of loud voices coming from a bit farther away.

Was that some NYPD slang she was hearing?

Iris made her way to the final scene of whatever-this-was, and stopped dead in her tracks.

A group of police officers, some in uniform, others detectives, were standing there, hand on their weapons for most of them – but not drawn, which was comforting. The dog, “Bear”, had... assaulted... one of them, which was clearly the reason for the tension in the air. Iris wasn't sure what kind of shepherd it was, but she knew police and other attack dogs well enough to understand why they had all reacted that way.

Except...

Except the dog wasn't actually attacking the detective, though the man was on the ground, under the dog's weight, and wrestling against the sudden...

Licking. That was it. Riley's dog had suddenly bolted to go and lick another police detective in the face, half a kilometer away, without warning. The animal's tail was wagging with enthusiasm, and the man under the beast had to stifle a laugh, to try and get “Bear” off him.

It seemed obvious, from the choice of words, that neither the dog nor the man knew the other, and yet... Here was Iris, witnessing one of the oddest scenes involving armed officers and dangerous dogs – and Riley, too, let's not forget Riley.

Perhaps the dog needed a therapy too.

The woman who had been walking the dog with Riley whistled, and the dog stopped his antics, looking up and back at the woman immediately.

“Why did you do that, exactly?”

Of course, the dog didn't answer.

Iris was beginning to think that perhaps, Riley's problems with therapy came from the company he kept. Speaking of which, she searched for the detective, wondering what he thought of the whole incident.

But Riley had frozen a few feet behind his friend, and was staring at the other detective, the one the dog had been so eager to greet for some reason. Iris frowned, and looked back at the man. Blond, short hair, about Riley's age, she'd say. Clear green eyes. She might have seen him somewhere...

Not with Riley, that she was certain of.

So why was the man so... shocked? And, to begin with, why had the dog bolted like that? Did Riley know the other detective? Did they have a common past? – yet another thing Iris didn't know about her patient, and that was becoming too usual an obstacle for it not too be alarming.

“Bear” jumped off the other detective, who, freed from the dog's weight, accepted the helping hand of his nearest colleague, before blinking successively.

The black detective, older than both the unknown detective and Riley, then waved three fingers before his partner's eyes.

“Alright, Sullivan? How many fingers do you see?”

Oh, Iris realized. Frank Sullivan. That was why she knew his face, even though she'd never had him as a patient. 21 st  precinct. Several times rewarded for his work... and with a period of slight paranoia after his undercover time in Narcotics, during which his dirty captain may or may not have ordered a hit on him because he was getting too close. The case hadn't ever been completely cleared, and the captain in question, Stan Moreno, had died later in the year, taking his secrets with him.

Now that Iris thought about it... She had been convinced, for some time already, that “John Riley” wasn't a cop. He was too... different, from the other cops, and even if from time to time Iris had the feeling there was something police-like under everything-that-wasn't in Riley's personality, she couldn't just dismiss the fact that, yes, too much of Riley wasn't a cop.

What if Riley and Sullivan had met while the other detective had been undercover? What would happen, should that be the case, as Sullivan would certainly notice the police badge on Riley's belt?

Had Sullivan seen Riley commit a crime, perhaps?

Iris couldn't think of John Riley as someone bad, but it was obvious that he worked with another set of rules. His moral compass was skewed, and sturdy at the same time – meaning, he could do much more than what people considered “ moral”, but unlike these people, his own rules would never waver, even when confronted with a terrible situation.

Iris had heard enough patients telling her about things they had done, knowing they were bad, but unable to do differently, because they, or someone they loved, were being threatened. John wouldn't let himself be broken like that – he'd rather get himself killed saving the day; which wasn't much better, but was still different.

All this also meant that the therapist didn't doubt that Riley had been on the other side of the law more than once.

What would Riley do, if she was right, if Sullivan had seen him do something, and it could endanger whatever he was doing now?

Frank Sullivan steadied himself on his feet, and waved his partner away with little care.

“Seven and a half fingers. Don't bother with that, Satch, just...”

Frank Sullivan looked back at the dog as he spoke, his eyes going up to the blank-faced woman who had gotten the dog leash back, with the dog at the end of it, naturally...

Behind the unknown woman, Sullivan saw a man standing. Still as death.

Not dead, though. It almost seemed to Iris as if the detective of the 21 st  precinct was expecting Riley to be dead, for whatever reason she wasn't privy to. The therapist didn't know why she was having that feeling, but... Looking at Frank Sullivan, this was what she deciphered.

There was a moment of silence, a moment without any kind of clear reaction. Sullivan's face did move, but too quickly – too many times, too many expressions – for Iris to understand what was going on...

Until the detective walked forcefully to Riley, and punched him in the face without a warning.

“Twenty one years, John!!! And not a word! Not even once!”

Riley didn't even try to evade the punch – which, Iris later thought, he probably could have done. But no, here, it was a choice. As if he deserved the punch.

Off-balance, Riley was soon the one on the ground, holding his cheek.

Iris started, as well as many of the other police officers at the scene, though some of them were starting to look like realization had just hit home. Like they knew John Riley, like they knew why Frank Sullivan had just punched the other detective in the face without a warning.

Not that it cleared much of anything to Iris, but the therapist wasn't just going to stay standing in the background, not now that things seemed to be going down – in what way, she wasn't sure, but she wasn't going to wait for Sullivan to empty his magazine on Riley, since, for all she knew, the man seemed more than furious enough to do just that.

Bright side, Iris guessed, “John” was really Riley's first name, since it seemed like he had already been using it twenty one years ago. Tremendous progress in figuring out “John Riley”.

Maybe she was getting a bit too anxious right now.

“Detective Sullivan, Detective Riley! May I know what's going on here?”

Sullivan and a few others looked perplexed at her words – so, no, “Riley” was probably not Riley's true last name, but anyway... not the time – Riley winced at his name – thanks, more confirmation that something fishy was going on – and the woman Iris didn't know stopped patting the dog for a moment, looking back at her... friend? – at Riley.

“Yeah, John... What is going on here?”

The ghost of an amused smile came to be on her lips, as she let the dog go.

“Bear” immediately went to the detective – the right one, this time – and started licking his soon-to-be bruised cheek. Riley winced harder, glared at his possibly-a-friend, glanced for a moment at Iris, letting his mild surprise at seeing her there show on his face – she'd explain, she swore, but later.

Then he looked back at Frank Sullivan, and got himself back up on his feet.

“Frank... Sameen. Bear. And Iris Campbell, police therapist for the 8th precinct amonsgt others...”

Sullivan's eyes flittered down to Riley's badge, confusedly surprised – as if it made sense to see it there, and, at the same time, it didn't.

Then Riley turned back to the two women, and added:

“May I present you Frank Sullivan? Police detective extraordinaire at the 21st. And my brother.”

Riley – John Sullivan? – looked down at the dog, who looked terribly proud of himself, and hissed:

“You traitor.”

 


End file.
